


mil flores

by lethargicProfessor



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Day of the Dead, Gen, mentions of Gabriel Reyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8459374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: McCree was supposed to be on his way to Dorado.





	

McCree was supposed to be on his way to Dorado.

That was what his mission had said, and what Winston had repeated before he set off.

Now, it wasn’t McCree’s fault that the authorities caught wind of him before he reached his destination, forcing him to take a quick detour.

It also wasn’t his fault that the nearest port of entry turned out to be El Paso, or that the sprawling border city reminded him so much of home. No one would fault him for sticking around a day or two, drinking in the sights and sounds. It wasn’t Santa Fe, of course, but the mountains sure did paint a pretty picture in the afternoon.

In his defense, finding a way to cross the border without being recognized took time and a finesse McCree very rarely possessed. So, while he brainstormed the best way to make his way across the river, he wandered. Without a destination in mind, his feet took him across downtown, towards the older districts, where a soft light caught his eye.

Curious, he made his way across the quiet streets, slowing down to drink in the sight.

The mural took up the entire length of the building, its bright colors shaded by golden hues. Even if the sun hadn’t thrown them into shades of orange, the hundreds of candles along the wall would have done just fine.

Running the length of the wall were altars – _ofrendas_ with flowers and candles creating winding paths along the black pavement.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” McCree breathed, sliding his hat off as he approached the mural for a closer look.

He knew they existed, of course, relics of Overwatch’s glory days back when it still stood for something. Most of the posters and signs he still saw were of Morrison, standing tall and blonde and gold and blue despite the years. The mural before him, though, was something else entirely.

Reyes would have laughed at the thought, him on the side of a building two stories tall and larger than life. The artist painstakingly took the time to outline every detail, the colors vibrant in the fading daylight. Besides Reyes, the mural included the likes of Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata and countless others, revolutionary heroes that McCree had only heard of in passing, with a Mexican Flag and the US one crossed in the background.

The mural alone was impressive, but the hundreds of marigolds catching the lights of the candles made it _glow_. It took his breath away, and he stumbled as his foot caught the curb. Bright laughter made his ears burn, but he tried to play it off when the children watching him drew closer.

The handful of children crowded around him, curiously poking at his serape and his arm and his hat, a couple of teens hanging back to watch over the little ones. McCree winked at them, nodding his head towards the mural. “That’s quite a doozy y’all got there. Haven’t seen anythin’ like it in a while.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” one of the teens laughed, turning their phone towards McCree. “The ones in LA are the really cool ones.”

And indeed, the murals they flipped through were astounding, swirls of colors and shapes that showcased Reyes, over and over like the hero he was, standing tall and proud. McCree smiled despite himself, handing the phone back to the teen. “That’s _amazing_.”

A little boy slid up to him with a bundle of marigolds in his arms, giving him a gap-toothed smile. “Do you wanna buy some?”

“You put them on the tables for the dead people,” another girl added helpfully, pointing to the array of altars already laden with flowers. “So they can come visit and be happy.”

McCree felt himself smile back as brightly as he could manage, crouching down to eye level. “You know what, kiddo? You’re absolutely right. Gotta pay my respects all proper-like.”

Wallet considerably lighter, he let the children lead him to Reyes’ altar, where a couple of women were chatting. They eyed him warily, but accepted his flowers graciously, placing them in a vase beside a platter of _pan de muerto_. The other offerings were average, as far as he could tell – fruits and nuts and _champurrado_ that made his mouth water, bordered by more flowers and streamers of _papel picado_.  

“ _Buenas tardes_ ,” he greeted, fumbling his way through a passable sign of the cross at the foot of the altar. A picture of Reyes with the rest of the team, clearly printed off the internet, was framed on the top tier of the altar with a candy skull propping it up.

“I can’t stay long,” he said slowly, though if he was saying it to the women and children, or to Reyes himself, he couldn’t say. Clearing his throat, he dug through his pack for a cigar, placing it reverently besides the picture of the team. “Just…wanted to say hello to an old friend.”

A few of the children gasped, crowding to peer at the picture to confirm their suspicions, but McCree had lingered enough. Patting the children’s’ heads lightly as he passed, he set his hat back on and tipped the brim at the women, leaving the candlelight behind.


End file.
